


just for fun, isn't it

by ghosthunter



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Sex Instead of Talking about Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-07-18 22:07:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16127726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghosthunter/pseuds/ghosthunter
Summary: “Djoos,” Andre sing-songs, right into his face. Christian laughs and shoves him gently, at the cost of letting go of his ice pack. “We should go out. I’ll be your wingman, and you can get laid and everything won’t seem so dire after that.”“I don’t want to go out,” seems like the most logical refusal right at that moment.Andre shrugs. “We don’t have to,” he says. “It was just a suggestion.” He slumps back into his corner of the couch, picking up his game controller. Christian fumbles to get his ice pack back in the right spot. “Or,” Andre says after a while of quiet. “I could get you off.”Christian chokes on absolutely nothing.





	just for fun, isn't it

**Author's Note:**

  * For [addandsubtract](https://archiveofourown.org/users/addandsubtract/gifts).



> for addandsubtract in the all caps exchange - congratulations, you got me as your author and i'm ridiculous so you got three fics because i wanted to make sure that you got, you know, ENOUGH. you had three pairings on your dear author letter and i'm only familiar with two of them so uh, here you go!
> 
> thanks to lanie and molly for betaing this on a time crunch. heros.

Playing in the NHL is both exhilarating and terrifying.

Every day, Christian wakes up and it feels like it isn’t real. He shows up to the rink and they put him out on the ice, and it doesn’t feel real. It’s not like when he was in the AHL, playing paired with Madison every game, and he was used to it. In the AHL, it mattered less that he was shorter or lighter, because a lot of guys in the AHL were shorter or lighter.

Sometimes, when he’s on the ice, he knows he’s a target. Guys aren’t checking him because they’d regularly be checking him - they take him a little harder, just because he’s smaller. It makes him angry, and makes him want to play harder, just to prove that he’s worth having there.

“Do you ever feel like,” Christian says, holding an ice pack against his shoulder as he slumps down onto the couch next to Andre, “maybe you don’t belong here?”

“You belong here,” Andre says automatically, looking over at Christian, frowning. He shifts over and reaches out to adjust the ice pack so that it fully covers the bruise Christian has on his shoulder from a hard check into the boards. “You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t belong here. You scored a goal in your first game.”

“And I’m getting fucking crushed every night,” Christian says, feeling sulky about it, probably because his shoulder is aching all the way down his back.

“Djoos,” Andre sing-songs, right into his face. Christian laughs and shoves him gently, at the cost of letting go of his ice pack. “We should go out. I’ll be your wingman, and you can get laid and everything won’t seem so dire after that.”

Christian goes through several emotions one after another. First of all, his body hurts and he’s in his pajamas and he doesn’t want to go out. Second of all, there’s not a single instance where he picks anyone up if he’s out with Andre, standing next to Andre, who is gregarious and un-self-conscious and gorgeous, and honestly a lot of things that Christian is enthusiastically not. Third of all, he never wants to talk about getting laid to Andre. Or to have Andre talk about it to him.

“I don’t want to go out,” is what he settles on, because that seems like the most logical refusal right at that moment.

Andre shrugs. “We don’t have to,” he says. “It was just a suggestion.” He slumps back into his corner of the couch, picking up his game controller. Christian fumbles to get his ice pack back in the right spot. “Or,” Andre says after a while of quiet. “I could get you off.”

Christian chokes on absolutely nothing.

Andre’s blushing when Christian finally gets himself under control. “Forget I said anything,” he says, and Christian almost laughs, because like hell he’s going to forget that Andre just offered to - what, give him a hand job, a blow job, what?

“Do you want to?” Christian asks, somehow managing to keep his voice steady. It’s not like he hasn’t hooked up with other guys, other teammates, casual things that happen when they’re both hard up for it.

“I want to make you feel better,” Andre says with a shrug, not looking at him. “I can’t make you feel like you belong here, but I can make you feel _better_.”

Christian doesn’t know what to say to that. He wants to say yes. He also doesn’t want things to be weird and awkward later. And he likes Andre, but Christian is new to the big club, and he’s not sure that he wants to try and navigate this. He wants to sprint into the other room and call Madison or Jakub and demand they tell him what to do. They’d probably laugh at him, mostly, and he doesn’t think he has time for that.

“Is it gonna be weird, if I say yes?” Christian says. “Like, between us.”

“It’s just a handjob,” Andre says, and finally looks at him. “Basically nothing. Stress relief. Better because you’re not using your own hand, you know. It’s never the same, with your own hand.”

Fuck, Andre’s right. Christian could jerk off until he was chafed raw and it would never be as good as having someone else’s hand on his dick. What’s a hand job between teammates? Nothing, Christian tells himself. It means absolutely nothing.

“Yeah, sure,” he says after a minute, shifting the ice pack against his shoulder.

Andre puts his controller down and moves over to sit next to Christian. Andre tugs the bottom of Christian’s t-shirt out of the way, just barely up past his navel, then tugs his sweatpants and underwear down past his dick with no ceremony at all. Christian bites his lip to keep from saying anything, because, he guesses, Andre’s already put in his work talking.

The thing is, he doesn’t know where to look. He wants to watch Andre’s face, the way Andre licks his lips as he wraps his hand loose and dry around Christian’s dick. The way he looks when he takes his hand away and draws his tongue across his palm. Andre’s barely touched him and Christian is fully hard, just watching.

But it’s supposed to be nothing, so he tears his eyes away from watching Andre’s face, and instead focuses on the way Andre’s fingers look wrapped around his cock. The way Andre’s fingers are so long, the way the tips twitch at Christian’s foreskin, the way his thumb strokes across the head.

This is a top five hand job Christian has ever received in his life. He’s going to tell Madison, and Madison’s gonna be so pissed about it, because Madison gives top notch handjobs and until this brief, shining moment, held all five of Christian’s top spots. Christian is losing his goddamn mind as Andre’s fingers slide down the length, teasing, only a little wet with spit.

The only way this could be better would be if they were both jerking each other off, if Andre was kissing him, if, if, if - Christian catches himself watching Andre’s mouth, again.

Andre’s head is dipped down, just the tip of his tongue visible between his lips as he jerks Christian off, watching the length of Christian’s cock sliding between his fingers. And Christian can’t help himself, he looks, and he knows that Andre’s own dick is tenting his pajama pants.

“Do you want me to—“ Christian starts to say, his voice coming out embarrassingly breathless. He fights the urge to thrust up into Andre’s hand.

“It’s okay,” Andre says, shaking his head. “This is for you.”

“Oh,” Christian says.

“You can fuck my hand, if you want,” Andre says.

“Oh,” Christian repeats. That’s the sexiest thing Andre’s ever said to him. Shit. Fuck, he’s not supposed to be thinking about Andre saying sexy things. It’s just hand jobs between friends!

Christian totally doesn’t have a crush on Andre and this is not making him acutely aware of it.

“Oh god,” he says, and does buck his hips up into Andre’s hand. Andre laughs at him, almost a giggle, and Christian wants to shove him onto the couch and kiss him and maybe ride him into the sunset and— 

He comes, a hot rush that takes over his whole body and spills sticky over Andre’s fingers, splattering onto his bare stomach and the bottom of his t-shirt. He has to reach down and grab hold of Andre’s wrist to stop him from stroking through the orgasm, because it’s too much, the feel of Andre’s hand is too much and it just has to stop.

They’re awkward in the silence after, while Christian is breathing hard and holding on too tightly to Andre’s wrist, and Andre is just waiting, his dick still hard.

“Um,” Christian finally says after a moment, letting go of Andre. “Thanks.”

Andre smiles at him, bright as the sun. “Anytime,” he says, and shifts back over to where he was sitting before and picks up his controller like nothing happened, like his dick isn’t totally hard in his sweatpants.

Christian goes to clean up, then to get a new ice pack.

 

It’s not like Christian thinks about it a lot on purpose. He’s got a few go-to fantasies that he cashes in on when he’s alone in his room - or in the shower in a hotel room - and he gets an opportunity to jerk off. It’s just that sometimes, things get a little out of hand.

Like, for instance, he’s got a couple of fingers in and he’s jerking toward a pretty good orgasm, but he realizes he’s thinking about Andre sucking him off. He doesn’t want to admit that that’s kind of a problem, because he definitely doesn’t want to be thinking about any of his teammates while he’s jacking it, but he also doesn’t want to admit that he’s kind of got a crush on Andre.

Who he’s living with. Who has already jerked him off while casually sitting on their couch. Who he’s imagining fucking him while he strokes his own cock to a pretty good orgasm, as far as solo work is concerned.

Andre has surgery on his thumb and ends up moping around the house, because he can’t do anything. He’s driving himself crazy, worrying about if the team is going to trade him, or send him down (which is stupid, because why would they send him down, he’d never clear waivers, someone would snap him up in a heartbeat even with his busted hand). Christian doesn’t know the right things to say to reassure him. Christian doesn’t know the right things to say to reassure himself.

What Andre says to him then is, “Let me suck you off,” and Christian is even more blindsided by that than when Andre offered to jerk him off.

“How many drugs are you on right now?” Christian blurts out without thinking.

“I want to try and deep throat you,” Andre says, deadpan, staring straight into Christian’s face.

This is a game of sex chicken that Christian has lost spectacularly.

Christian ends up fully naked sprawled out on Andre’s bed. He doesn’t think he’s ever been totally naked for a brojob before, but he thinks that maybe this is going a little bit beyond. Andre’s wearing his underwear, still, but while Christian’s cock is resting, soft, against his thigh, Andre’s is already half-hard and obvious. Christian’s starting to think that Andre gets off on freaking him out.

“I’ve never deep-throated anyone before,” Andre tells him, shifting position and leaning down, mouthing along the length of Christian’s dick. “I tried once, but.”

His mouth and teeth are on the inside of Christian’s thigh more than they’re on his dick, and his fingers are stroking down, lower, teasing. It doesn’t take much time for Christian to be fully hard with that happening, and for Andre’s mouth to close around the head of his dick.

Andre goes slow, moving his hands to rest on Christian’s hips, to hold him down, even if the hand with the cast is awkward and weird. The first time the head of Christian’s cock bumps against the back of his throat, he gags, and Christian thinks that’s going to be the end of it; he’s just going to get a regular blowjob and that’s going to be it.

But Andre has other plans. He pulls off, and Christian, propped up on Andre’s pillows, watches him swallow and take a deep breath. He’s seen that determination on the ice, and seeing it in bed is so funny that Christian almost has to stifle a laugh.

The second try is a little more successful, as Andre ignores his gag reflex and gets Christian to the back of his throat. He swallows him down, reflexively swallowing and swallowing and Christian has to fight not to buck his hips up, glad that Andre is holding him down with one forearm across his hips.

When Andre pulls back, he’s breathing hard and spit drips off his chin, a long strand connecting his mouth to Christian’s cock. Christian can see tears in the corners of his eyes, and he wants to stop Andre when Andre leans back in and takes him down a second time.

“Andre,” Christian says sharply, warning, and Andre swallows, tries to swallow down the come and Christian’s cock all at once.

He only chokes a little bit, and pulls back in a rush, getting come splattered on his face. Christian can’t help the groan that comes out of his mouth when Andre swipes it off his chin, then licks it off his fingers.

He curls up next to Christian on the bed this time, looping an arm around him, his cock pressed hot and hard against Christian’s hip.

“I’ll do better next time,” Andre tells him, his voice hoarse. His voice is hoarse because Christian’s cock has been down his throat. And sure, Christian just came, but that makes his entire body tingle. He could get off on that thought, and the way Andre’s voice sounds right now, alone.

“You did amazing this time,” Christian tells him. It seems like the right thing to say. He wants to kiss Andre, push his tongue into Andre’s mouth and taste his own cock and his own come there, but it feels too much like crossing a line. Instead, he strokes his hand over Andre’s hair.

“But I could do better,” Andre says. “I won’t gag next time.”

Apparently there’s going to be a next time.

 

Andre’s in a good fucking mood after the game in Dallas, making Tom piggyback him through the hotel hallway after the game. Christian’s beanie is wet from the rain when he tugs it off and smacks it against Jakub to shake the water off.

“Ew,” Jakub says, even though it’s only water, and shoves Christian, and they scuffle while they’re trying to get to their hotel room.

“Djoos,” Andre sing-songs down the hallway at him. Jakub snickers and shoves Christian, who bumps into the wall and shoves him back. “Hey, come here for a minute?”

“Go,” Jakub whispers. He pushes Christian toward where Andre is standing outside his hotel room door. Tom’s already gone into his room, leaving Christian, Jakub, and Andre the only ones standing in the hallway.

Jakub and Madison know about Andre’s handjob, because it was so good that he had to brag about it. Jakub knows about the blowjob, because, well, Jakub is one of his best friends, and it was a pretty mind-blowing moment for Christian. (And also, because he was kind of hoping Jakub would say, “I can do that,” and then proceed to try it, which he did, unsuccessfully.) Jakub has definitely figured out that Christian has a big, ugly crush on Andre.

Christian follows Andre into his hotel room. Andre’s stripping out of his suit, and Christian stops in the doorway to watch him. He hangs his jacket in the closet, then turns back to Christian. “You should let me suck you off again,” he says, casual, like it’s nothing.

Like they don’t live together, and like Christian hasn’t been jerking off to the memory of it every night since then. Having Andre standing in front of him, smiling, effervescent with the win and a multi-point night, is what he fantasizes about. Andre asking him, Andre going down on him again, Andre letting Christian fuck him.

God, Christian really does want to fuck him.

What Christian should say is no, because yeah, okay, he wants that, he definitely wants that, but he wants more than Andre sucking his dick every couple of months. He wants to be able to grab Andre by his tie and pull him in and kiss him hard, wants to feel like he can curl up with Andre after they’ve fucked.

Instead, Christian says yes.

Andre takes Christian’s coat from him and hangs it in the closet, then hangs his suit jacket up with it. “Make sure you fold your stuff up so you can put it back on later,” Andre tells him. “So it doesn’t get wrinkled or dirty.”

Christian can’t help but laugh at that, because he knows what Andre means when he doesn’t want their game day suits to get dirty. Especially if Andre’s about to… well, Andre is pushing Christian back toward the bed, both of them stripped down to their underwear.

“Can you hand me that pillow?” Andre asks him after he pushes Christian down on the bed, sinking to his knees at the foot of it. Christian reaches above himself and grabs one of the pillows, tossing it down toward the end of the bed. Andre laughs softly as he takes it, and tucks it under his knees.

“Yeah, take care of your knees, hotel floors are a bitch,” Christian says, reaching back and grabbing another pillow to jam it under his own head, propping himself up.

“Fuck off, they are,” Andre says. And yeah, Christian knows. It’s not like he hasn’t been on his knees in a hotel room before. He’s not going to say that to Andre. Maybe he should say that to Andre.

He doesn’t have the chance to get it out of his mouth before Andre is tugging Christian’s underwear down off his hips, down his thighs and down to the floor, tossing them to the side. Andre’s hands slide up the insides of Christian’s thighs, pushing them apart until he can settle between them. He wraps one hand loosely around Christian’s cock, stroking him from half hard.

“I’m gonna take you all the way down again,” Andre says, sitting up on his knees more, moving his forearm to press Christian’s hips down again. “You liked that before, right?”

“Yeah,” Christian says, his voice coming out too breathy, a little more into it than he expected. Fuck that, he’s exactly as into it as he expected, he’s been jerking off to this for weeks.

His memory of it is nothing compared to the way Andre’s mouth actually feels as it closes around his cock, sucking at the head. Christian leans back, stretches one arm out above his head, digging his fingers into the duvet cover. Andre works himself up to it, works himself into sliding Christian to the back of his throat again.

Andre doesn’t gag this time, letting Christian’s cock slide to the back of his throat and swallowing, like he’s been practicing. Thinking about Andre practicing so that he can do this - so that he can do this to Christian - makes Christian groan, on top of his cock sliding down into Andre’s throat.

Andre keeps his forearm across Christian’s hips, holding him down, holding him still, his other hand spread out across Christian’s thigh, his fingers digging into Christian’s skin. He takes Christian’s cock down once, twice, and he comes back up, keeping his mouth wrapped around the head of Christian’s cock as he breathes hard through his nose.

It’s the third time down that leaves Christian grabbing at Andre’s arm, digging his fingers in and gasping Andre’s name. Andre swallows him down as he comes, and when Christian is breathing hard and spent, stretched out on the mattress, Andre sits back, looking pleased with himself.

He climbs up to curl up next to Christian again, his legs sticking halfway off the bed with the way Christian is sitting with his knees bent off the end. 

“I told you I’d be better this time,” Andre says, and the hoarseness in his voice makes the same twist in Christian’s guts that it did before. This time, instead of petting Andre’s hair, Christian turns and presses his mouth to Andre’s.

He brings his hand up and twists his fingers into Andre’s hair, and Andre’s mouth opens under his easily. The fantasy of tasting himself - his cock, his come - on Andre’s tongue was nothing compared to the real thing. Andre’s pressed hot and hard against him.

“Let me get you off,” Christian says, moving one hand to Andre’s hip. The position is uncomfortable and they need to move further up the bed. “I want to.”

Andre hesitates, biting his lip. “You don’t have to,” Andre says. “I’m okay.”

“Andre,” Christian says. “Let me jerk you off. Let me suck your dick. Let me fuck you.” He listens to the way Andre’s breath catches in his throat as he says it. He likes the way it sounds. He wants to know what other sounds he can make Andre make.

“I don’t - I mean, it’s just bros, right?” Andre says.

“I’ve been thinking about you sucking me off for weeks,” Christian says, because fuck, why not just fucking go for it, right? The way this feels, with Andre… it’s not the same as laughing and joking around with the other guys, it’s not just bro-jobs. Christian feels like there’s intent. Maybe he’s wrong, but he’s going to shoot his shot anyway.

Well, he’s already shot his shot, but he’s pretty sure he could work up to a second one pretty easily, starting with just the way Andre sounds after deep throating him.

“Oh,” Andre says.

Christian barrels on, because the floodgates have already opened. “I want to hold you down and eat your ass until you’re squirming and begging me to fuck you,” Christian says.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Andre says, and jerks his hips against Christian’s. “Can you just start with jerking me off?”

Christian laughs, and moves his hand off of Andre’s hip and into his underwear, wrapping his fingers around Andre’s cock.

 

“Go to dinner with me,” Christian says to Andre out of the blue one night, when they’re sitting around the house, playing video games.

“We just had dinner,” Andre says. “Like, you make dinner all the time. You can cook.”

“I’m trying to ask you on a date, asshole,” Christian says, irritable. Then it melts away. “Unless you don’t want to. I mean, you don’t have to.”

“Are you really trying to date me?” Andre asks, looking at Christian, confused. Like this is something new to him, like Christian hasn’t been trying to get more out of Andre since that night in Dallas.

It’s fine, Christian supposes, if Andre didn’t seem so receptive to it most of the time. Christian makes them dinner, they watch TV, they fool around. Andre has been surprisingly shy about letting Christian eat his ass, but that’s cool, they’re working up to it.

They have not had sex, which Christian really wants to do.

He still fantasizes about that, when he’s alone in bed at night, or in the shower, or any time he’s regularly jerking off and Andre’s not around to casually lean over and give him a hand (or better, a mouth). He thinks about pinning Andre down and making him beg. He knows Andre isn’t quiet when he comes, he’s heard the whimpers, heard him saying Christian’s name over and over while Christian sucks him off.

“Did you not understand that?” Christian says, just as confused. “I thought I had been clear that I wanted - well, that I wanted you.”

“For fun,” Andre says. “And we’ve been having fun, but I’m just fun, right?”

“According to who?” Christian asks, frowning at that.

“People?” Andre says. “Everyone I’ve ever tried to date. It’s been fun, I’ve had fun, but I want something serious. I can be serious.”

“Andre,” Christian says. He’s honestly stunned. “I don’t know who said that to you, but you should tell me so I can punch them in the mouth.” He pauses. “Or tell me so I can tell Tom and he can punch them in the mouth.”

Andre laughs, and it’s a little watery, like maybe he’s going to cry. Christian puts his controller down on the coffee table and moves over, settling closer to Andre until his knee is up against Andre’s hip. He reaches out and cradles Andre’s face between his hands.

Christian forgets sometimes, underneath the pressure of it being his rookie season, in the instability of being swapped in and out of the lineup, that Andre is younger than he is. Andre has seen and done different things, taken a different path to get to where he is, and he’s been playing in the league for four years already when this is just Christian’s first year. Suddenly, sitting here, Christian does feel older, much older than just a year.

“I said I wanted to date you,” Christian says to him, serious. “I want to take you out on a date. I want to do stupid romantic shit with you, not just give you a handjob after you blow me on the couch.”

Andre laughs at that, and he turns his head slightly and presses his lips to Christian’s thumb. “Okay,” Andre says.

“Is that why you - is that why you wouldn’t have sex with me? Because you didn’t want me to say ‘it’s been fun, see you later’?” Christian asks him, frowning. Andre sighs, and won’t look at him.

“Yes,” Andre says.

“You know if I just wanted to have some fun, I’d just go to V and be like, hey, and I could do that,” Christian tells him. “You know that’s the deal there, right?”

Andre reaches up and pulls Christian’s hands away. “Wait, really?” he asks. “Does Mads know?”

“If V was busy, I’d go to him,” Christian says. “Or fuck, maybe both of them. Wouldn’t be the first time. What I’m saying is that, you know, I like you, Andre. I’m serious.”

“Everyone thinks you’re sweet and quiet and shy,” Andre says. “And serious. And you’re sitting here telling me about having threesomes with your teammates.”

“After the first time you sucked me off, I told V and he had to try it,” Christian says. “He could not do it.”

Andre fucking cackles at that. He leans forward and kisses Christian. “Okay,” he says. “Take me on a date. But promise me that you’re not going to tell me it’s been fun and like, ghost me.”

“We’re on the same team, asshole,” Christian says. “How am I gonna ghost you?”

Andre grins and tackles Christian to his back on the couch, kissing him hard, tangling his fingers too tight into Christian’s hair, pulling a little too hard. They end up rubbing off against each other right there on the couch, dry humping like teenagers until they both come, gasping, in their shorts.

Christian’s too sweaty and lies there afterward, stretching one leg out over Andre’s lap, Andre rests his forearms on Christian’s shin and goes back to playing his video game, even though there’s come cooling in both of their shorts.

 

 

They do go out, while the team has a day off in New York. They rent a fucking tandem bike and Andre spends more time filming them riding it than he does pedalling, which is fine, but Christian is absolutely going to make him pay for it later. And sure, it’s a date, but they do end up out with other people, which is, in the end, fine.

As long as they end up back in the hotel room together, Christian couldn’t care less.

“I owe you a dinner,” he says, in the elevator on the way up to the hotel room. Andre is fidgeting, nervous, and Christian has to pitch his voice louder than he normally would say something like that, just to get Andre to listen. Andre looks at him and flashes a nervous smile.

Christian reaches out and slides his fingers through Andre’s, squeezing gently.

Andre lets them into his hotel room, and Christian tugs him to a stop just inside the door, once it’s clicked shut behind him.

“Hey,” he says, looking up to meet Andre’s eyes. “I’m not gonna ghost you. I told you. I’m sorry that I didn’t get to take you out on a real date. Just the two of us.”

“Are you sure?” Andre asks.

Christian sighs, and shrugs out of his coat, hanging it in the closet. “I don’t know how to convince you that I like you,” he says. “I don’t know how to convince you I want to date you.”

“I’m not even sure I belong on this team,” Andre says.

“No,” Christian says. “Absolutely not. Any night we’re up in the press box, that doesn’t mean we’re not part of this team. That we’re not part of this family. These guys love you. Everyone here loves you.”

“Even you?” Andre says.

“Even me, Andre,” Christian says.

“You love me?” Andre asks, his eyes wide.

“Yeah,” Christian says, feeling like his breath has been punched out of him. “I told you it wasn’t just for fun. I told you I wouldn’t be here, taking you out, trying to date you, if I just wanted fun.”

It’s like it all clicks together for Andre then, and he smiles at Christian, reaches out and wraps his arms around Christian’s shoulders and kisses him hard, catching Christian’s lip between their teeth and pinching. It hurts, but Christian doesn’t care. Christian puts his hands on Andre’s hips and walks him backward toward the bed.

Andre’s coat ends up on the floor at the foot of the bed, and Christian’s hands glide up underneath his t-shirt easily, tugging it up and off over his head. He kicks his shoes off and lets Christian make short work of his belt and the button and zip of his jeans, pushing them and his underwear down off his hips and down to his knees.

“Take your socks off,” Christian tells him, backing away and tugging his own shirt up over his head and off, tossing it into the pile they’ve made of Andre’s clothes. “It’s not sexy.”

Andre laughs, but slides his jeans the rest of the way off and tugs his socks off as well. Christian’s bag is in Andre’s room, because they knew they’d be coming back here together, and he’s got lube and condoms packed, hoping that he’d get the chance for this.

Christian likes the way Andre looks, sitting naked on the edge of the bed, his body strong and lean and built for playing hockey. It’s not that different from the way Christian looks, not really - Christian’s just a smaller, slimmer version of built for hockey, his thighs thick and heavy with muscle. He likes the way he looks naked, too, but he’d rather look at Andre.

He comes back to the bed and tosses the lube and condoms down next to Andre on the bed, easy to leave forgotten for now while he stands between Andre’s knees, leaning down to press their mouths together as Andre’s hands come up to rest on his hips, his thumbs stroking across Christian’s skin.

“Andre,” Christian says. “Hand me one of the pillows? Let me go down on you?”

“You say that like you’ve never sucked my dick before,” Andre says, stretching back across the bed to grab one of the pillows and hand it to Christian as he sits back up. Christian drops it onto the floor by his feet.

“You know that’s not what I mean,” Christian says, leaning down and kissing Andre again. “I told you I wanted to eat your ass until you begged me to fuck you.”

Christian hears Andre’s breath catch in his throat.

“You don’t want me to?” Christian asks him.

“I do. I just. No one’s ever really. No one’s ever done anything but finger me open,” Andre admits.

“Just relax, and let me do it,” Christian says. “Think of it as payback for all the times that you got me off and wouldn’t let me touch you, because you thought it was just bros. Or all the times that I thought about doing this to you while I jerked myself off.”

“Fuck,” Andre says. “Don’t fucking talk to me like that, or you’re not gonna get a chance to do anything.”

“You gonna come from me dirty talking you?” Christian asks, and laughs.

“Try it sometime,” Andre says. Christian grins at him, then kisses him again. He doesn’t think he can get Andre off just by dirty talking, but he does think it would be a nice way to wind Andre up some night.

“If you don’t like something, tell me,” Christian says.

He starts out kissing Andre, slow and lazy, then he starts down, kissing along Andre’s jaw and neck, scraping his teeth across Andre’s nipples just to make him gasp. He leaves a faint bite mark on the inside of Andre’s thigh before he brings his hand up, stroking slowly along Andre’s cock, his nose nudging against the base as he works his way down.

He feels Andre jerk as he swipes his tongue across Andre’s balls, the sensation unfamiliar and unexpected. “You gotta lay back, babe,” Christian tells him, lifting his head up and looking at Andre, his hair falling across his face. “Your legs here,” he says, tugging at one of Andre’s thighs until Andre hooks a leg over Christian’s shoulder.

Christian kneels on the pillow at the foot of the bed. “Grab a pillow and put it under your lower back,” he says. “I know it’s weird, but it’ll be easier.”

Andre hesitates a little bit, but tucks the pillow under his back anyway. Christian’s mouth is on his balls again, making him squirm, and making Christian laugh, which makes Andre squirm even more. Christian strokes one finger across Andre’s opening.

“Do something already,” Andre says, breathless already.

“I haven’t even been teasing you that much,” Christian says. He leans in, and—

“Oh my God, that’s your tongue,” Andre says, and accidentally smacks Christian in the head looking for something to grab onto.

“Hey,” Christian says, lifting his head up. “You can hold onto my hair if you want, but don’t pull too hard. And don’t hit me again, or I’m gonna go back to my own room and you can jerk yourself off.”

“You love me,” Andre says, breathless. “Sorry I hit you in the head.”

Christian doesn’t answer, just leans back in, his tongue brushing across the rim. He uses his hands to manipulate Andre’s body, to hold him apart so that he can get his mouth closer, licking and sucking. He can hear Andre breathing hard, even with just working the outside.

When he finally pushes his tongue in, past the ridge of muscle, Andre yells. He also pulls Christian’s hair a little harder than Christian would necessarily like, but Christian’s willing to forgive him in this case. Christian works at him, licking and sucking and fucking Andre with his tongue until Andre’s squirming, moving too much for Christian to keep going.

“Do you want me to stop?” Christian asks him, pulling back and wiping the spit off his face with a hand, swiping it down his own thigh.

“Get me off,” Andre says to him. “Please just—Chris, please get me off.”

“You want me to suck you off?” Christian asks him. “Jerk you off? Fuck you until you come?”

“Just fucking do something to my dick, please,” Andre whines at him.

Christian gets up and walks around the side of the bed, reaching down and tugging at Andre’s arms. Andre whines at him, but gives him the help he needs to get Andre settled against the pillows remaining on the bed. He reaches out and sweeps the unopened condom off the bed, but picks up the lube and un-caps it, spilling some into his palm before closing it and tossing it to the floor as well.

They can clean up in the morning.

He settles on the bed next to Andre and slicks the lube down the length of Andre’s cock. Both of them are hard, dicks leaking and ready as Christian wraps his hand and starts to jerk both of them off. Andre whimpers and ruts against him, breathing hard, open mouthed, ready to come. It only takes a few strokes before he’s spilling across Christian’s hand, splattering onto their stomachs and the sheets.

He clings to Christian, breathing hard, eyes closed, his face pressed into Christian’s neck as Christian finishes himself off.

It takes a few minutes, but Christian’s the one who gets up and cleans them up, working shakily around Andre to get the blankets out from under him while Andre sprawls, wrung out across the duvet. He falls asleep with Andre’s nose pressed against his skin, Andre’s hair tickling his chin.

 

Andre gets hurt again during the playoffs, and it is the biggest pile of bullshit ever, which Andre tells Christian over and over again, especially after he’s on painkillers for it. Christian puts a hand over his mouth. “Shhh,” he says, because he’s goddamned trying to sleep.

“You’re mean,” Andre huffs at him, and huddles down next to Christian in bed.

It doesn’t require surgery this time, and Andre’s back by the end of the Eastern Conference Final. To score. Twice.

He’s stumbling, exhilarated and drunk and draping himself on Christian, even though Christian is too small to really bear it. They wrestle into Andre’s room.

“I need you to fuck me,” Andre says to Christian, pulling his hat off and tossing it onto the floor. He’s tugging Christian’s shirt loose from his pants, sliding his hands along Christian’s bare skin. “Take your clothes off.”

Christian laughs, but he’s not going to tell Andre no, even though they’ve both been drinking and are probably going to be hung over on the plane back to DC.

“You were so good tonight,” Christian says to him, leaning up and pressing his mouth to Andre’s. “So good.”

“You probably say that to all the boys,” Andre says.

“You know I only say it to you.”  
There’s nothing graceful about them stripping out of their clothes. They leave clothes strewn across the hotel room as they stumble back toward the bed. Andre climbs onto it, arranging himself against the mattress while Christian digs through his bag for his lube.

“Do it bare,” Andre says, watching him, half propped up on an elbow. “Make it messy.”

Christian’s already got the condom in his hand - yeah, if Andre changes his mind, but because he feels a little unsure about it. Just in case, he thinks, throwing the tube and the packet onto the mattress next to Andre.

“You’re fucking filthy sometimes, you know that?” Christian says, crawling up from the bottom of the mattress, settling on his knees between Andre’s thighs. Andre spreads for him, easy, letting his knees fall wide.

“No worse than you,” Andre says, and smiles at him, wide and beaming.

Christian leans down and kisses Andre, stretching out, resting his body against Andre’s. He knows it’s not what Andre’s asked him for, knows that it’s taking too long when Andre’s already said that he wants Christian to fuck him. It makes Andre whine, makes Andre buck his hips up against Christian’s, trying to get friction to his dick.

“Calm down,” Christian tells him. “I’m gonna fuck you. Give me a minute. God forbid I wanna kiss you and tell you how good you are at fuckin’ hockey and how we’re gonna go to Vegas and play in the fucking Final.”

Andre fucking moans. “That’s the sexiest fucking thing anyone’s ever said to me,” he says, letting his head fall back against the pillows. “Say it again.”

“What?” Christian asks, pushing himself up on his arms and looking down at Andre. “That we’re gonna play in the Final?”

“Yeah,” Andre says. “Yeah we fuckin’ are.”

Christian pushes himself up to sit back on his knees, uncapping the tube of lube. He slicks up his fingers first, reaching down and teasing at Andre’s opening, brushing the lube across and making him squirm. Christian loves teasing him and making him squirm.

He fingers Andre open, slow and steady, like he always does, ignoring the way Andre begs him to go faster, to give him more, the way Andre always does. He whines and begs and says, “fuck, just put your dick in already,” making Christian laugh. He just loves the way Andre looks, is all, stretched out on the bed, flushed and begging.

Christian lines his dick up and pushes in slowly, leaning forward until he can pin Andre’s hands to the bed under his own. Andre can’t touch his own dick while Christian fucks him, while Christian pushes in all the way to the hilt and makes Andre yelp.

Andre’s still a noisy fuck, moaning and gasping while Christian fucks him, saying Christian’s name over and over again. Christian loves the way that his name sounds in Andre’s mouth when he’s moaning it, better than when he sing-songs Christian’s family name.

He fucks Andre hard, until he comes, jerking his hips forward. He stops, and Andre’s still waiting, his hands still pinned by Christian’s, his cock still hard and hot and pressed between them. When Christian pulls out, it’s messy, come dripping down Andre’s ass crack.

Christian drops to his side next to Andre. “Jerk yourself off,” he says. “I wanna watch.”

“Come on, that’s not fair,” Andre says.

Christian slides his fingers down between Andre’s ass cheeks, through his own come, and pushes his finger in.

“Holy fuck are you serious?” Andre asks.

“I said jerk yourself off.”

Andre wraps his hand around his cock, stroking himself hard and fast. Christian doesn’t get bothered about it, fingering Andre lazily, his fingers covered in lube and his own come, watching the head of Andre’s dick disappearing in the circle of his fist until come spills across his stomach.

“I kind of like when you boss me around,” Andre says later, after they’re cleaned up and under the sheets.

“Yeah?” Christian asks, stroking his hand over Andre’s hair.

“I want you to keep doing it,” Andre says.

Christian smiles and rolls onto his side, pushing a knee between Andre’s thigh, looping his arm low around Andre’s waist.

“Anytime you want,” Christian tells him.

 

On the plane home from Vegas, Ovi is spooning the cup, Jakub is spooning a massive bottle of water, and Christian is spooning Andre, who is asleep for the first time in over 24 hours, alcohol seeping from his pores.

“Hey,” Nicke says quietly, and Christian looks up at him. Andre doesn’t even move, his head tucked under Christian’s chin. “Take care of him.”

“I do,” Christian says.

Nicke watches them for a moment, then nods his head. “He’s needy but he loves you a lot,” Nicke finally says.

“It’s okay,” Christian says. “I love him, too.”

Nicke smiles at him, and Christian smiles back, before burying his face down into Andre’s curls. They smell like sweat and alcohol and hotel room shampoo, and Christian feels a lot of emotions, but mostly he’s just happy.


End file.
